


Lessons

by charis2770



Series: Finding Vengeance...or is it Something Else? [39]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: A LOT more tags to come, A Look into Asami's Past, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And the man who trained him, BDSM, Flashback Story, Kink Training, Like too many times to count, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Seriously this tag list will probably end up a full page on its own, Slash, This is the story of how Asami became a BDSM Leather Master, Yaoi, as requested, dubcon, old guard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 17:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12151557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: At his lovers' request, Asami begins to recount how he met the man who trained him to become a Leather Master in the BDSM community.His first lesson wasn't pretty.





	Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dedicated to Everyone from Crimelords Brats and Lovers who contributed to make this possible](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Dedicated+to+Everyone+from+Crimelords+Brats+and+Lovers+who+contributed+to+make+this+possible).



> This story comes at the request of too many people to count. It's likely to end up being pretty damn long. This first chapter contains a pretty damn nonconsensual sex scene, so please be aware before you read.
> 
> Again, this is a work of fiction. The things that happen to Asami are not an okay way in real life to teach anybody anything. Everybody better fucking know that no means no....unless you're already in a consensual and fully negotiated D/s relationship where ALL involved have agreed that only the use of a safeword stops whatever is happening. This story isn't like that....YET.
> 
> I also want to thank all of my followers who pitched in to commission this fic. I love you all so much. You will never know how precious you all are to me. Come and join us at Askasamifeiandaki.tumblr.com. It's an amazing group of people.

When Akihito asks Asami to tell him the whole story of his training in his youth to become the Leather Master he is now, he hadn’t really expected Asami to say yes. Then Feilong throws in his own plea.

 

“Oh, do tell us,” he adds after Aki asks first. “I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how much I still have to learn as a Dominant. I’d truly like to hear how you learned all the things you know.”

 

“It’s...not always a pretty story,” says Asami, looking at Akihito.

 

“I know. I mean, you’ve told us a little. I know that man….Ian….I know he did some pretty heavy stuff to you. But I want to hear it anyway. I wanna understand better. Please?”

 

Asami sighs and leans back in his chair, tapping a Dunhill out of the package at his elbow on the end table and lighting it. He takes a long drag and lets it out slowly, looking them both over consideringly. 

 

“Very well,” he says finally. This is how it started…..”

 

*******************************************************

 

The King’s Arms was crowded, as it always was on a Friday night when most of the students at the centuries old University didn’t have classes the next day. The tall, broad-shouldered Asian youth pushed past the throng of people near the entrance who were waiting hopefully for a table or stool at the bar to open up. His quiet self-assurance and something about the way he carried himself put a stop to the few who might have objected to his behavior. He ignored them, not even bothering to scan the room, but moved with purpose through the raucous crowd of students set briefly free from their strenuous studies for a couple of days. His unusual amber eyes easily sought and found what he was looking for.

 

“Oi! Ryu!” A voice shouted from a table near the back, hand thrust in the air holding a pint of dark beer. A brief smile flickered at perfectly sculpted lips as the boy made his way to the table where a group of his friends waited. The table was ideally located for him; at the back of the pub, tucked into a corner, which would give one a vantage point to view the entire pub. His usual seat was even empty; the one at the far side of the big, eight-top table, so that he’d be able to keep the wall at his back and his eyes on everything happening in the Arms.

 

“You’re late,” hollered his best friend over the noise of the college watering hole, rising when he drew near to thrust a beer into his hand and to kiss him enthusiastically on both cheeks. Alexandre Dubois, Alex to his friends (and occasionally Alexis on a few rare and secretive occasions that only strangers and his best friend knew about) had met Asami Ryuichi on their first day of Freshman year during orientation when they’d learned they’d be roommates. 

 

“I had a call from Father,” the young Japanese replied. Alex pulled a face, as though this explained everything, and indeed, for one who knew Asami as well as the French boy had come to, it did. Asami sighed as he took a long swig of the dark, nutty beer and the two of them took their seats, the other young men at the table, most of them fellow team-mates from the fencing team, thumped Asami on the back or shouted their welcomes. Asami relaxed back into his chair, more than ready to enjoy a few drinks with his mates, pleased to observe their Friday night ritual of enjoying a couple of beers before heading out in search of more….interesting….activities. From the number of empty glasses on the table, he could see that at least a few of his team-mates were well into their fifth or sixth pints. He didn’t care. They could do as they liked, but he’d indulge in no more than two glasses. As bearer of academic and athletic scholarships, captaincy of the fencing team in only his second year (and the first in Oxford’s illustrious history to do so), as well as heir to his family legacy, he held himself to higher standards of behavior. No one had ever seen him drunk, and as far as he would say, no one ever would. But he enjoyed their company well enough, and their admiration quite a bit more. 

 

By the time he’d taken the first few sips of his second beer and was about halfway listening to Alex’s low-voiced murmurs in his ear about the fresh-faced, sweet young boy he’d met in the campus bookstore earlier in the week (Alex is studying finance) whose number he’d gotten and about some of the shocking things he was planning to do to the poor kid later tonight (Asami had learned to be very, very good at half-listening while appearing to pay close attention under his father’s thumb by the time he’d entered intermediate school...a survival skill more than anything, since the half he’d learned to tune out is almost always bitingly critical), he’s really looking around the bar for his own target. He and Alex got along as roommates for a number of reasons, and their very particular tastes in bed were one of the more entertaining ones. His sharp tiger eyes scanned the crowd. There were a couple of girls and one boy who  _ might _ fit the bill….and then his gaze fell on someone who definitely didn’t fit in with the normal crowd.

 

A man leaned against the bar, sipping a deep golden-brown liquor, neat, out of a rocks glass. He was staring straight at Asami. He looked to be a few years older than most of the people in the bar. His black hair was a little longer than is fashionable in Oxford, and tied back in a loose tail at the back of his neck, a neatly trimmed goatee framing a strong jaw around a smirking mouth. Piercing blue eyes bore into his own. He was tall;nearly as tall as Asami himself, who was a couple of inches past six feet and probably not finished growing. The muscles shifted in his forearm, bared by his rolled-up sleeve, as he lowered his glass from his lips. The smirk widened and he tilted his head.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Asami interrupted Alex abruptly, then his mouth quirked up at the corner. “Or not.” Alex chuckled and claps him on the shoulder.

 

“Oui? Well, call in the morning as usual, mon frere, or I shall know to phone the police.”

 

“I won’t forget. But don’t blame me if I wake you after you’ve worn your little toy and yourself into a comatose state, or interrupt a morning encore. Try not to break him.: Alex tosses his head back and laughed.

 

“I always break them, darling. I just put them back together so well they never complain.”

 

“Right. Well, don’t touch my new riding crop or I’ll use the next one on you. You broke the last one,” said Asami with mock annoyance. He got up and walked away with Alex’s laughter and his teammates farewells ringing in his ears. The man watched him approach for a little bit, since he had to weave his way through the crowd, then gave another of those head-tilts. Asami frowned a little, since it felt a bit too much like an order, and one the man expected him to obey. For a few seconds, he reconsidered one of the other few prospects he’d been eyeing earlier, but he couldn’t manage to see past the magnetism in those sharp cerulean blue eyes.

 

As it turned out, the man had simply moved into one of the smaller side rooms of the pub, and was waiting for him, leaning up against a wall with his arms and legs casually crossed, drink dangling carelessly from his fingers.

 

“I thought ye’d maybe rather not be havin’ a conversation with me in plain sight o’ your mates.” The man’s voice was low, deep and rich with the burr of Ireland in its sound. Up close he was even more attractive than from across the room. His blue button-down stretched taut across a muscular chest and broader shoulders than Asami’s He also didn’t have to look up to meet the younger man’s eyes, which was a nice plus. He was shorter by about an inch, but that was all. The stranger uncrossed his arms and held out a hand. When Asami took it, gripping firmly, the man nodded.

 

“Ian Brennan,” he said easily.

 

“Asami Ryuichi,” replied Asami, feeling a little breathless, which he wasn’t sure he cared for. Ian nodded.

 

“An’ which one do ye be goin’ by?”

 

Huh. An Irishman with at least some measure of knowledge about Japanese culture. Most people called him Asami because they assumed it was his first name, having no idea he goes by it due to his family’s influence.

 

“Asami, to most people. There are only a couple of people who call me Ryuichi….Ryu. I don’t answer to it to anyone I haven’t given permission to use it.”

 

“Very well then, Asami, would ye care to retire to somewhere more interesting?” asked Ian, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. Asami laughed.

 

“Direct, aren’t you?”

 

“Let’s just say I think I might see somethin’ in you, an’ I’d like to find out if I’m right. Are ye up to a challenge?”

 

“Always,” said Asami with a cocky grin. He didn’t usually go for older men, but there was something about  _ this _ man that pulled at something in him. Something that called, that siren song of the pain and pleasure he’d learned that he enjoyed with his sex. Somehow, he’d long had a sixth sense about the ones who’d go for his favorite kinds of games, and the ones who’d run screaming at the mere suggestion of something so mundane as simple fur-lined handcuffs for a little teasing before the main event, let alone the more intense stuff. And everything in him told him that this man enjoyed the hard stuff.

 

His heart beating faster, he followed Ian to the parking lot. The handsome Irishman turned to him.

 

“And did ye drive yourself here, or will we be taking mine?” he asked. Asami laughed. Did he drive. As Ian stopped beside a sleek, low-slung and very custom 1960’s era hemi cuda, Asai gave a low whistle of appreciation, then pointed to his own BMW convertible roadster a few spaces over.

 

“Good then. You’ll follow me, will ye? Oh, and do try to keep up.”

 

As he got in his car and started the engine, it’s low rumbling growl vibrating the asphalt under Asami’s Gucci shoes, he turned and raced for his own vehicle, leaping easily over the door and into the driver’s seat, seconds behind Ian as the ‘cuda peeled out of the parking lot.

 

They sped through the historic, dignified city, Asami just barely managing to keep pace. Once they left Oxford’s limits, the other driver put the pedal to the floor and the ‘cuda leapt forwards like a horse chomping at the bit. Asami slammed his own foot to the floorboard, laughing out loud as the street blurred past and the wind whipped at his hair. It was exhilarating. And a drive deep into the countryside that probably would have taken them close to an hour at posted speed limits was done in less than 20 minutes. Asami pulled between huge wrought iron gates in the center of a tall, moss-covered stone wall, following Ian’s car at a more sedate pace up a long, white gravel drive that meandered through a twin row of tall Elm trees that finally led to a circular roundabout with a big stone fountain that contained flowers and shrubs instead of some fat little cherub or swam spitting out water. 

 

The house itself was quite impressive. It was almost as big as Asami’s family estate, but much older. It was a classic Napoleonic era manor house, constructed of thick grey stone. The front doors were age-darkened wood banded in iron with a large, circular knocker. Asami pulled up behind Ian Brennan and turned off his car, pressing the button that unfolded the convertible roof, since rain was fairly common at this time of year and he’d just as soon not have to replace the upholstery. Ian was waiting for him when he got out, standing by the open doorway with a very sexy smile on his face. Grinning back in anticipation, Asami walked up the three broad stone steps, grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt and yanked him close, covering Ian’s lips with his own. 

 

Asami Ryuichi was a practiced kisser. He’d been doing it for a lot of his 19 years, and that alone had charmed more than his share of pretty boys and girls out of their clothing and into his bed. Ian Brennan made him look like a rank amateur. A skillful tongue danced and teased at his own. He growled softly and sucked the younger student’s bottom lip into his mouth, teeth biting first gently and then more sharply at the flesh. Asami felt his cock swelling in his pants. Fingers hooked into his belt loops and hauled him close. Their hips collided and rolled together, delicious friction very nearly pulling a moan from the younger man’s lips. Before he could consider a response, Ian stepped back, completely unruffled, and waved his hand towards the open doorway.

 

“Welcome to my home. Won’t you come in?”

 

“My pleasure,” replied Asami, just as politely, because this was a dance he knew well, having been rigorously schooled in manners and etiquette from the time he’d learned to walk. Ian’s house was quite lovely, decorated with period antiques worth a fortune. An impressive collection of firearms, one of Asami’s personal passions, adorned one wall in an elegant display cabinet. They paused for a minute to talk about it. Ian offered to take him shooting sometime if he’d care to. Asami answered him in his well-schooled way of saying nothing at all while sounding like he was thrilled by the prospect. He didn’t keep lovers. He’d found that entanglements had an annoying tendency to get messy. Especially when one of his conquests discovered how rich he really was, and despite all the fancy trappings, this man would certainly not be the first gentility with nothing left to his name but the trappings of his station. Even if he was an astonishingly good kisser. He was offered a drink, and accepted, the beer and a half he’d consumed earlier having had no effect on his sobriety. Brennan  poured them both a rocks glass of 75 year old Glenlivet. So perhaps not hurting for money after all. 

 

He savored the scotch, letting the pleasant, sharp, smoky aromas fill his nose and warm his belly. It was potent stuff, so he politely refused a second glass. Ian set his own empty glass down on the bar with a soft thunk and tilted his head, observing the younger man with penetrating blue eyes. 

 

“Shall we then?” he asked in that lyrical accent. “I find I canna wait to get those hands on me.”

 

Asami grinned crookedly. To be honest, he could hardly wait either, but he never allowed himself to show how much he wanted anyone. It gave them the upper hand, and sometimes gave the greedy ones the wrong idea.

 

“After you,” he said with a small shrug. As Ian turned, Asami missed the sharklike sneer that crossed that handsome face for a split second. He followed behind the older man (not much older, really. Likely he was a graduate student, and that was why they hadn’t run into each other on campus before. Young to have a place like this all to himself, but he’d made no mention of family. Probably a trust fund baby then, lost his parents a bit early. It was sad for some, but it happened. For a moment, Asami thought of his mother, but he pushed the thought aside. Now was not the moment to be allowing painful memories to interfere with pleasure. 

 

The master bedroom on the second floor was enormous, and decorated much like downstairs, with elegant, beautiful antiques that managed not to be overly gaudy. He could see a lot of Ireland in many of the pieces. Paintings of rolling green hills and wildlife, ancestral swords, ancient horn pipes and powder horns, a family crest. The room was done in tones of deep claret red and gold, but not overdone. The bed was a massive four-poster, each of the posts looking as though it were carved of an entire medium-sized tree trunk. Ian waited as Asami’s eyes tracked across the room before turning back to him. The man had removed his shirt and leaned against one of the posts at the foot of the bed, an arm slung around it casually. Asami’s mouth watered a little. Ian was  _ ripped _ . Every muscle defined, the V of his hips that showed over the waistband of his pants sharp enough to cut glass. He smiled confidently, knowing he’d nothing to be ashamed of himself. He worked out every day aside from his fencing practice and pickup games of rugby with classmates. Ian was a bit broader, but the younger student reminded himself he still had a couple more years of growing into the body he intended to have. 

 

Unbuttoning his own shirt, he stalked slowly towards the other man. Ian smirked and cocked an eyebrow. Asami let his shirt fall of his shoulders to the floor, then lifted his arm and slid his fingers into Ian’s hair, pulling the tie binding ib back free to drop it on the floor. Black hair with a bit of a wave to it tumbled around the man’s muscular shoulders.

 

“You don’t mind, do you?” purred Asami seductively. Ian just laughed. Asami’s fingers tangled in his hair, tightening into a fist, and he pulled the man into a kiss. They made out for several minutes in a way Asami hadn’t done since he was a lot younger than this, but  _ damn _ the man could kiss. When they finally stepped back, they were both breathing harder. Ian looked at him, eyes heavy-lidded and dark. Flashing a wicked smile, he slowly sunk to his knees. Clever fingers had Asami’s pants open in seconds, then wrapped warm and firm around his cock, pulling him free. He sucked breath through his nose harshly as Ian’s tongue swiped languidly up his length, teasing at the knot of flesh under the broad head of his erection. He pulled back for a moment to grin up at the young man standing over him.

 

“My, but ye were keepin’ quite a secret under that Burberry wool, weren’t ye?” he teased. Asami smirked. More than a few boys have been put off by his size, but Ian didn’t seem disturbed at all. He went back to work, this time opening his mouth and sliding his lips down the thickness of Asami’s shaft, letting his spit lubricate the slide so he could take it in more easily. Asami tried not to react, but when he felt the head of his cock bump the back of the man’s throat….and then past...and the tightness of muscles working as they swallowed around him, he let out a soft groan. No one had ever deepthroated him before. It was harder to keep control of himself than he’d have expected. Finally he pulled away, taking a few deep breaths to calm his heart rate. Ian looked a little smug and strolled over to one of the bedside tables, opening a drawer and taking out a bottle of lube and strip of condoms. Then he fished out a set of leather wrist cuffs. He dangled them from one finger and gabe a half smile that almost seemed a bit awkward.

 

“Alright, so I have to admit I’ve never done what we’re about to do tonight. Do ye think ye’d be willin’ to wear these? I’ll feel more comfortable with it if I’m the one doin’ the work.” It sounded like the words came out a little reluctantly. Asami’s heart rate accelerated. To be the first man to get his cock inside that amazing body? It was a bit of a heady thought. He still hesitated for a few seconds at the idea of allowing himself to be bound, but at least it wouldn’t be the first time. He’d let a girl handcuff him to her bed once so she could ride him. The bondage hadn’t really done anything for him, but her excitement had made up for it.  She’d asked for similar reasons. She’d had bad experiences with guys forcing her head down when she’d gone down on them, to the point that she’d stopped doing it, but she’d wanted to try again and thought perhaps if his hands weren’t free to touch her head, she’d feel more comfortable. Which she had, using her mouth on him for what had seemed like hours. That memory is what makes up his mind.

 

“If you like,” he said with a shrug, keeping his face impassive. Ian gave him a happy smile and stepped up to kiss him again, hands dropping to unfasten Asami’s slacks the rest of the way and shove them over his hips to drop around his ankles, then worked at his own one-handed while giving the younger man’s spit-slick cock a few slow, lazy strokes. When they were both naked, Ian guided him back onto the bed and asked politely for his wrists, which Asami raised obligingly enough, drawing again on his years of dealing with his father to keep his face expressionless. He had plans for what he wanted to do to the man  _ after _ the cuffs came off, and before round two (Asami was generally good for at least three go-rounds in a night, and had certainly been known to be able to recover more often than that. Even as a sophomore his stamina was already something of a legend). It wouldn’t do for Ian to notice how little he cared for being bound. It would make it more fun to punish him for it later. He just smiled as the man stretched his arms over his head and latched both cuffs to a couple of neatly hidden rings bolted under the base of the head board’s crosspiece. Interesting. Maybe he wouldn’t mind being punished at all. Asami couldn’t imagine that anyone kept O-rings permanently bolted to their beds if they weren’t in the habit of using them often. Inwardly, the boy preened a bit to himself that an older, attractive man apparently used to topping wanted him so badly he was willing to give up his ass to a younger student. This was going to be a night to remember. 

 

Ian crawled slowly up his body and sucked him into another breathtaking kiss, rolling his hips expertly so that their erections rubbed together with delicious friction. Asami met each rocking thrust with one of his own. Ian growled softly into the kiss. Asami sucked on his tongue and bit his bottom lip.

 

“I’ve had my eye on ye for a while now, ye know,” Ian said in a low voice. Asami raised a brow with a rakish grin, though he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about such an announcement, since he was certain he’d never noticed the man before tonight. 

 

“Have you?”

 

“Oh aye. I’ve been looking for somethin’ in particular. I think you might have it. If I’m right, your whole world might change tonight, if you’re also as smart as ye think ye are.”

 

Part of the young Japanese heir bristled a bit at this, but Ian spoke with a teasing lilt to his voice. Bragging a bit, was he? Well, they’d see who was bragging by the time the night was done.

 

Ian kissed him again, which did a pretty good job of derailing Asami’s thoughts. Damn the man for being so good at it. He was only dimly aware of the sound of the soft snap of the cap on the bottle of lube popping open. Skillful lips paired with just the right amount of teeth slid down under his jaw to his neck, so Asami tilted his head back obligingly, hissing softly in pleasure through his teeth. When something cool and wet slid between his legs and pressed firmly against his asshole, it took Asami a moment to realize what was happening. Then his head shot up off the pillows and the steel hardware of the leather cuffs rattled loudly as he yanked on them hard.

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded angrily. Ian smirked and slid his finger easily into the boy’s hole despite how tightly it clenched against the intrusion. “I  _ don’t _ bottom, you bastard. Get your hands off me or I’ll fucking kill you.”

 

Ian laughed.

 

“You listen to me, you arrogant little prick,” he said savagely, the laugh vanishing along with the humor in his eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re so full of yourself that you made assumptions based on what I said to ye.”

 

“Oh, so you needed to tie me up because this was something you’d never done before was meant to be interpreted any other way?” snarled Asami, bucking his hips to try to dislodge the finger that twisted and squirmed inside him. Ian’s smile this time was vicious.

 

“Oh, I am doin’ something I’ve never done before, you just won’t know what it is until I’m done with ye here,” he said coolly. 

 

Asami’s mind raced. He yanked harder on the cuffs, succeeding only in hurting his wrists as he tried desperately to think of a way out of this. He thought about trying to get his legs around Ian’s neck to strangle him, but the man sat up and rested his weight on his thighs, pinning him to the bed. Heave as he might, Asami couldn’t budge him. Ian only hummed and curled his finger inside him when he cursed and threatened. Asami grit his teeth at the warm pleasure which pooled in his belly as his prostate was rubbed and pressed repeatedly. His cock, which had completely lost interest moments before, slowly began to refill with blood despite his wishes. Fuck if he could think of a single thing to do to escape.And he’d be damned if he’d beg this bastard for mercy. He grit his teeth and tried to ignore what Ian was doing when he added a second finger and went back to work on Asami’s sweet spot. His body wasn’t very cooperative, his cock now at full attention as Ian ruthlessly abused his prostate and the heat sat heavier and heavier in his guts and his balls. 

 

“You’re a dead man,” he hissed, staring at the ceiling, deciding to just at least pretend to ignore what was happening. He’d wait for his chance if he had to, but the fucker would  _ pay. _

 

“Aye well, all of us are eventually,” agreed Ian almost cheerfully. He scissored his fingers apart as he said it, and Asami’s body flinched at the burn despite his determination. “But havin’ a riding crop in your hand and your cock up some confused boy’s ass doesn’t make ye any kind of a Dominant. I’m goin’ to show ye what you’ve done to countless others. What ye do after will be up to you.”

 

It took every ounce of will Asami had not to react to the shock of Ian’s announcement. How could this complete stranger know so much about him, especially when he’d always been discreet? Then Ian slid his fingers out and Asami heard the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open, followed by the squelching sound of more lubricant slicking over the older man’s cock. A tiny stab of fear nipped at his resolve. He’d fucked enough people before to know that two fingers wasn’t enough prep work to prevent Ian’s plan from hurting. Oh hell, he’d  _ done _ it to enough people that way to know it too. 

 

His brain blanked out for several long moments at the utterly alien sensation of the large head of a cock nestling snugly against his asshole. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. He was rich, he was attractive as hell, he was popular, and he was always the one in control. His thoughts of using his legs to try and strangle the man were forgotten as panic tried to rob him of his own good sense and he fought to maintain his stubborn refusal to react.  Powerful hands hooked under his knees and pushed them up. Asami’s thighs strained to try to prevent it, but Ian was stronger. 

 

“Ye’d be wise to try an’ relax or this’ll hurt more than it has to,” said Ian blandly, then pushed his cock slowly but inexorably into the captive sophomore all the way to the hilt. A cry of pain wrenched itself free of Asami’s throat. Oh gods, it hurt. Like being ripped open and split in two. Pain shot up his spine. He hadn’t shed a tear since his mother died when he was four years old and berated for it by his father, who had sternly ordered the sad and confused little boy to suck it up because Asami men did not cry, but they welled up in his eyes from the sheer pained helplessness of the feeling of being ruthlessly cored open. 

 

“S-stop!” he gasped, stifling the sob that wanted to break free. Ian didn’t, but he did stop  _ moving _ once he’d bottomed out, balls pressed firmly against Asami’s ass. “Don’t  _ do _ this!”

 

“I told ye to relax,” said Ian in a low, guttural voice that sounded a bit strained. “ _ Christ _ but you’re tight. Hey!” He let go of one of Asami’s legs and snapped his fingers beside his ear to get his attention. “I said  _ relax. _ Take a deep breath. Now let it out an’ relax your whole body as ye do it.”

 

A little dazed and stunned, Asami found his body obeying the command in the other man’s voice. His breath hitched as he inhaled, but he let it out smoothly, tensed muscles doing lax. Too many years of martial arts training to recall made the exercise one of automatic muscle memory. The sharpness of the pain faded, replaced by a deep ache inside him that he still raged against inside his head, but could bear. Eyes hot with the tears he’d shed and his rage, he stared back at the ceiling, refusing to look at Ian, who didn’t seem to care one way or another.

 

“There ye go. Now don’t forget to breathe,” commanded Ian. He rocked his hips slowly, and when Asami didn’t tense up again, he nodded to himself, drew back, and slammed his cock back in to the hilt. Asami choked on a strangled gasp at the deep, bruising ache of being fucked for the first time in his young life. He started to imagine creative ways of slaughtering this man, but then Ian grasped his hips and tilted them a little with appalling ease and sparks exploded in his brain. He heard Ian chuckle softly as he kept up the rough, bruising thrusts. Right over the perfect spot. Having him where he wanted him, Ian let go of one hip and slowly curled his fingers around Asami’s cock. In contrast to the brutal fucking, his grip was firm but gentle, stroking the younger man expertly, sometimes nudging at the sensitive underside of the head with a fingertip, other times rubbing his thumb sweetly over the now-slick head. Asami bit the inside of his own cheek savagely, trying to resist the insidious pleasure that wrapped around his spine and pooled in his guts. He could feel his balls drawing tight and shook his head in denial.

 

“Resist all ye want,” said Ian a bit breathlessly. “You’re goin’ to come on my cock whether ye like it or no. It’s part of the lesson, an’ if ye’ve a brain in your head you’ll pay attention. A man’s body can be forced to pleasure due to his biology. Knowin’ how to make him crave the pain  _ and _ the pleasure ye can give, now that’s another thing, ye rank fuckin’ amateur.”

 

Ian’s words startled Asami into looking at him. In that moment, Ian gentled his thrusts so that the broad head of his cock rolled sweetly over Asami’s prostate and the hand on his cock sped up, using just the right amount of pressure. A shocked cry of pleasure tore from his lips as his body spasmed around Ian’s cock and he came. For some reason, the ache deep inside him combined with the pleasure so that he came harder than he’d ever come in his life, great spurts of seed decorating Ian’s hand and his own stomach. He felt the other man’s cock twitching inside him as Ian threw his head back and groaned softly through his teeth.

 

For several long moments. Asami lay there in stunned silence. Ian let go of his slowly softening cock, lifting his hand to his own mouth. With a satisfied cheshire grin, he slowly licked Asami’s spunk off his own fingers, staring straight into the young man’s blurred amber eyes.

 

“Now,” said Ian calmly once his hand was nice and clean, “I’m about to release ye. And ye can try to kill me as ye’ve threatened if ye really want to. Or…”

 

“Or. What,” gritted Asami through tightly clenched teeth, trying not to flinch when the older man pulled out of him, removed the condom and tied it off, discarding it somewhere he couldn’t see.

 

“Or ye can get up, put on your pants an’ follow me downstairs. There’s somethin’ I brought ye here to show ye after demonstratin’ to ye that ye don’t know nearly as much as ye thought ye did. It’s somethin’ I think you’ll want to see it. Once I’ve shown ye, I’m planning to ask ye a question, an’ then ye can decide for yourself whether ye still want to  _ try _ an’ kill me, though I will warn ye that ye won’t be the first.”

 

Asami couldn’t say what made him nod shortly to the man’s offer. He didn’t understand why he wanted to see what Ian wanted him to see. Perhaps it was a few of the things the man had said to him. Perhaps it was simple curiosity. But he did want to see. He could always plan the bastard’s slow and painful death later. 

 

He rubbed at his aching wrists when Ian unbuckled the cuffs, then rolled to his feet, stubbornly ignoring the violent trembling in his legs and the ache inside his body and lower back. Keeping Brennan in his line of sight out of the corners of his eyes as he used every ounce of willpower to dress himself without allowing the shaking to show, he saw something that looked like satisfaction and respect glowing in the man’s deep blue eyes. When he’d finished, he drew himself up to his full height with dignity and turned to face Ian.

 

“After you,” he said coldly in an ironic echo of earlier words. Ian nodded once with another of those confusing looks, then turned and led the way out of the room and back down the stairs. Asami paused when they reached the ground floor, but Ian kept moving, walking through the main parlour, and into a classic gentlemen’s billiards room, then on to a closed door at its far end. He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked it. Growing more curious by the moment, Asami walked slowly after him (speed wasn’t really an option anyway, as it still took almost everything he had just to keep his steps steady and hang onto his battered dignity). Ancient stone steps, worn smooth at their edges with age, led down into what he assumed was a basement. Briefly he considered whether this was where Ian Brennan took his victims to murder and then make them disappear, but in spite of himself, he walked down the stairs several steps behind the man, keeping some space between them. He had to lean more heavily than he liked on the wide, dark wooden handrail. When they reached the bottom, Ian flipped a switch on the wall and Asami’s jaw dropped.

 

The room wasn't a basement, it was a dungeon. Old iron sconces rewired for electricity lined the walls, giving off a soft, low light. The stone floor was smooth, but broken up here and there by rugs of varying sizes in rich, dark colors. A huge, heavy X-frame which he knew from watching kinky porn was called a Saint Andrew’s Cross sat bolted to the wall in one corner. A black, leather-padded sawhorse took up another part of the floor. Some kind of swing or sling hung from the ceiling, made of broad leather straps. A huge, throne like chair sat near one of the walls, a wide, padded footstool in front of it. There was a padded platform suspended from the ceiling by chains at its four corners. An exquisitely smithed wrought iron cage took up another corner. Other chains dangled from the ceiling, two with a leather-padded bar suspended between them and another with a heavy steel hook bolted to its end. He saw a whipping post and a set of very authentic-looking old world stocks. There was probably more, but his head was reeling too fast to take it all in. 

 

And to top it all off, one of the walls was decorated with row after row of decorative iron hooks from which hung every kind of implement for administering erotic pain that he’d ever heard of plus a great many he’d never seen before; riding crops, paddles, whips, floggers of many sizes and colors, canes, velvet bags (containing what, he could only imagine), cuffs and shackles made of leather or steel, collars of every size, an almost bewildering array of gags, coils of rope, and black leather body harnesses. Fascinated out of his rage, he drifted over to the wall and reached out to run his fingertips over some of the toys. He was so lost in his own sense of wonder that the sound of Ian’s voice almost startled him.

 

“I am what’s known in the BDSM community as a leather Master,” he said conversationally, leaning casually against the whipping post. “I studied under another Master for almost three years to earn the title. Now, there are plenty o’ men an’ women who call themselves master or mistress just from pickin’ up those toys an’ figuring out how to use em’ on someone, but inside the old guard of the leather community, someone who’d done what I did, suffered through what I suffered, was trained the way I was trained, earns ten times the respect o’ their peers.”

 

“I...and?” said Asami, still too overwhelmed to think of a real response.

 

“ _ And _ I’ve been lookin’ for an apprentice for the past year or so. Someone to teach what I’ve learned. Someone to pass on my legacy to. Someone  _ worthy _ of my time an’ trouble, as well as someone with the balls to go through with it, because I promise ye, it is  _ not _ easy. I’ve been watchin’ ye for a while now, an’ despite the fact that you’re an arrogant little prick an’ a fumbling idiot who’s too full of himself to recognize it, I think that underneath it all,  _ you _ could be that person. It’d be the hardest thing ye’ve ever done. Before ye earn the right to call yourself Master, ye learn to serve, so that you’ll never take a sub for granted or treat another person like I treated you tonight again. An’ you’ll feel every implement on that wall on your own skin too, most of ‘em more than once. But if ye’ve the desire, an’ the guts to go through with it, ye’ll hold the respect of every member in the Lifestyle community in any country ye visit, every private or public fetish club. My offer’s only good for the next two minutes, so ye’d best decide quick.”

 

Asami fingered the buttery-soft straps of a body harness, a small frown between his brows as he fought an inner battle with himself. His mouth almost watered with desire for what Ian spoke of, but his body ached all over.

 

“Oh, one more thing,” Ian said suddenly. “I give ye my word that I’ll never fuck you again unless ye ask me to. If ye decide this is what ye want, there’ll be protocols in place that give ye the right to put a stop to anything ye cannot handle. So...what do ye think?”

 

Still touching the harness, Asami made up his mind. He turned to look Ian straight in the eyes, lifting his chin and meeting those bright blue eyes with amber ones that burned.

 

“I think I want to know what this looks like on  _ you _ ,” he said fiercely. Ian threw back his head and laughed.

 

“I knew it,” he chuckled. “I  _ knew _ ye were the right choice. An’  _ if _ ye complete your training, ye can have that. And me, any way ye like.”

 

Asami turned in a slow circle, soaking up the sights of Ian’s private dungeon, a ferocious yearning igniting in his chest. At the end, he faced Ian Brennan again, a slow smile curling the corners of his mouth.

 

“When do we start?”

  
  



End file.
